


Interlude

by Luthien



Series: Aftermath [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-07
Updated: 2003-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthien/pseuds/Luthien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two heroes meet in secret one night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2003. PWP and... well, PWP.

Harry walked in through the door of the small, impossibly Muggle room, to find that Snape had arrived ahead of him. He was sitting by the fire, reading some great, musty tome that looked like it weighed half a ton. Harry doubted that Snape was familiar with the concept of light reading, in either the figurative or literal sense.

Snape looked up after a moment, but made no move to close the book. He remained seated and stared across the room at Harry unblinkingly, his eyes as dark and deep and unreadable as they'd ever been. Harry suddenly felt uncomfortable, as though he was somehow a schoolboy again and Snape had caught him failing to pay attention in class. How long he stood there he couldn't have said, except that it was too long. Finally, he remembered with relief that he was still standing in the open doorway. He turned away from Snape's penetrating gaze so that he could close the door behind him.

The door closed with a click and Harry turned the key in the lock, then muttered a basic locking spell for good measure. There was no sense in taking chances. And casting the spell gave Snape extra time to get that look off his face before Harry turned around to face him again.

Snape was still sitting in his chair when Harry moved away from the door, but he wasn't trying to pin Harry to the wall with his eyes any longer; he was immersed in his book once more and didn't even look up when Harry cleared his throat a bit pointedly. Harry noticed, however, that Snape's robes were undone at the front and draped loosely around him. The sight was slightly more encouraging than Snape's otherwise forbidding manner.

Harry had always been a person of actions before words. And Snape had always seemed to respond quite... encouragingly to any and all of the more intimate actions that Harry had tried out on him since... since this whatever it was between them had started. Harry sat down on the chair by the table - still half a room away from Snape - and bent down to pull off his boots. His socks followed. Then his robes. And his jeans. Finally, Harry was stripped down to his tee-shirt and underwear. When he looked across the room again, he wasn't surprised to find that Snape was no longer reading his book. It lay unheeded on the small table beside his chair. And the look in Snape's eyes was no longer unfathomable. Still deep and dark, yes, but there was a familiar heat there now and it warmed Harry more thoroughly than the fire that crackled on the hearth could ever hope to do.

Harry didn't waste any more time. He walked over to Snape and, without warning or ceremony, plonked himself crosswise on Snape's lap. He leant most of his weight against the chair's winged back, and his knees were supported by the arm of the chair, it was true, but that didn't change the fact that his backside was undeniably jammed into Snape's groin, just the same. Snape let out a gasp, though whether in surprise or because Harry's unexpected action had knocked the breath out of him was hard to say. Harry wriggled about a bit, making himself comfortable. Still, Snape said nothing. Finally, Harry looked him in the eye. Snape looked- Harry had been expecting surprise - surely Snape hadn't seen that little tactic coming? - but that wasn't the expression he found on Snape's face. What he saw there was more akin to irritation, though the heat remained, leaping up suddenly from the depths.

Harry wasn't sure that he wanted to deal with whatever that strange look might mean - not if he didn't have to - and he turned his attention to more potentially profitable activity. He started by pulling back Snape's robe and trailing his fingers down the front of Snape's shirt. Snape made no move to stop him, so Harry let one fingernail catch against Snape's nipple through the linen. Harry couldn't miss the slight jolt that went through Snape's body at that. He played with the nipple some more, feeling it harden in response, feeling Snape's breath deepen and change against him even though no part of them was touching skin to skin. Not yet.

Harry continued on, stroking and rubbing and lightly scratching with his nails through the thin fabric, but still touching no other part of Snape - not with his hands, anyway - and waiting to see what other response he could force from Snape through that one simple point of contact.

The fabric of Snape's shirt directly above the nipple was growing warm with the continued friction, but still Snape said nothing and made no move to touch Harry. Harry was getting slightly impatient. He was almost certain that Snape hadn't missed the fact that Harry was sprawled across his lap, so why was he acting as though all that stuff with the nipple was happening by magic?

Then Harry noticed that the other man's fingers were digging deeper and deeper into the fabric-covered arms of the chair. And there was something else, something long and firm beneath Snape's clothes, that nudged against his thighs. Harry squirmed, a bit more than he'd really intended to, and he felt Snape's body tense against him. Harry swallowed at that, and at the very same moment something very like a groan sounded in Snape's throat.

Harry grinned. "Hello?" he asked, finally looking Snape in the eye again.

Snape's jaw was clenched his face looked more than a little strained, especially around the eyes. He looked as though he were in pain, in fact. And he was looking at Harry as though that was all Harry's fault. Harry couldn't stop the resentment rising up inside him at that. He felt like arguing the point, and then realised how very foolish that would make him sound. How could you fight against an accusation that hadn't even been stated in words?

"Hello," said Snape, breaking his silence with a voice that sounded rusty, as though from long disuse. The breaking of the silence seemed to be the breaking point for Snape's resolve, too. Suddenly Snape's hand was sliding up into Harry's hair, warm fingers across the smooth skin of his forehead - and then it was Harry's turn to feel uncomfortable.

"Don't!" he said, as Snape's fingers travelled lightly over the scar. He didn't want Snape to touch it, even though it didn't hurt him any longer. The scar would never cause him pain again. Not physical pain, at any rate. Where once it had pulsed, alive with evil whenever Voldemort drew near or drew on his malevolent power, now it was dead. As dead as... It was just a mark on his skin now. Just a mark, as commonplace and unremarkable as anything that might be found on the forehead of a Muggle.

Snape's fingers moved away from the scar, sliding gently down over Harry's face, stopping at Harry's lips. He was terribly aware of Snape's eyes, fixed on him. Harry looked Snape in the eye again and was immediately caught up in that intense, disturbing gaze, like an insect in a spider's web - or a lion fascinated by a snake. Snape's index finger caught on the corner of Harry's mouth and stayed there, teasing for a moment. Then it moved, tracing a hard path along the curve of his bottom lip, rubbing and pulling the skin this way and that, then dipping inside to catch some saliva and repeating the movements in slippery mimicry until Harry's lip felt unbearably hot and full and...

Harry's eyelids felt suddenly overwhelmingly heavy, so he closed his eyes and let deep breaths flood his lungs. His whole attention was focused on the tingling in his lip and the sudden lassitude that was taking over the rest of his body.

His head fell back against Snape's shoulder and he felt Snape's arm come around him at last, supporting him - which was just as well, really, or Harry might have tumbled off Snape's lap and onto the floor in a heap. He forced himself to open his eyes.

Snape's finger had come to rest in the centre of Harry's lip, pulling it down a little so that Harry couldn't quite close his mouth. His face was barely a breath away from Harry's own.

"Please," Harry whispered.

Snape's hand moved away - down to Harry's hip, Harry realised after a couple of confused seconds. Harry's own hand moved up into Snape's hair, tangling there.

It seemed like an agonisingly long time, but at last their lips met - and then the pace changed completely.

Snape swirled his tongue up and around the inside of Harry's lip, drawing it into his mouth and sucking gently until Harry gasped, then pressed closer and opened his mouth fully to the kiss. Harry felt as though his heart was on fire and that the flames were licking across the inside of his chest and beyond through the rest of his body, gradually eating him up from the inside out, even as Snape's lips did almost as thorough a job of consuming him from the outside in.

Snape's hands clutched hard at Harry's hips - when had the second hand made its way down there? - and slid under Harry's backside. Still keeping up the relentless kiss, Snape nevertheless managed to direct enough of his attention to the job of re-positioning Harry. Harry found himself being manoeuvred to one side so that his arse was jammed between Snape's thigh and the arm of the chair. He whimpered and took hold of Snape's shoulders, trying to pull himself back into Snape's lap.

Snape did break the kiss then, and Harry was left gasping deeply through throbbing lips. Snape was watching him, his face still so close that it blocked out everything else in Harry's line of sight, his eyes huge dark pools that demanded Harry's undivided attention. Harry stopped struggling, unable to drag his gaze away. Unable even to move. One of Snape's hands gripped Harry's hip, holding it firmly in place, while the other reached up and caught Harry's hand where it rested on his shoulder. Snape guided the hand down between them. The fabric of Snape's trousers was taut beneath Harry's fingertips. In fact, the buttons felt as though they might pop under the strain and be sent flying at any moment. So tense, so hard...

Harry closed his eyes hard, his whole body tingling , and drew in a deep shuddering breath. His fingers moved, slowly stroking, and he felt Snape's almost instantaneous response, pushing up hard into Harry's hand. Harry hid a grin, suddenly feeling more in control of the situation, and opened his eyes again.

Snape was still looking at him, but now the hectic flush suffusing his cheeks betrayed him - not to mention the gasp he couldn't stop when Harry's fingers moved again. Harry squeezed gently, and felt the immediate and satisfying jerk of Snape's prick beneath. But it was the accompanying quick glitter of desire in his eyes that made Harry catch his breath as a sudden sharp spike of want cut through him.

Harry looked away from the burning gaze, and concentrated his attention on his fingers, which were fumbling at their task. The buttons resisted his clumsy attempts and he was almost tempted to consign the stupid things to oblivion with whatever vaguely appropriate spell first came to mind. Somehow, he got them undone before he was able to think of the right spell, which was probably just as well, since he really wouldn't have wanted to accidentally banish one or two other things in the immediate vicinity along with the buttons. His fingers strayed down into Snape's trousers, past one final thin barrier, and then Snape's prick was hot and hard and alive in his hand. He squeezed it again, skin against skin this time.

Snape moaned and his erection pulsed against Harry's palm.

Harry brought his free hand up to Snape's face, outlining the sharp line of the jaw with a fingertip before leaning closer. It felt good to be the one to initiate the kiss this time. It felt good to slide his tongue into Snape's mouth as he slid his hand gently up and down Snape's shaft.

Snape broke away. "You bloody tease," his voice growled into Harry's ear. "You've never listened to anything I've said to you, have you? Not once. How many times have I told you that if a thing's worth doing at all, it's worth doing properly?"

Harry said nothing, but let the stroking of his hand slow to one long, excruciatingly deliberate movement from base to tip.

Snape bit Harry's earlobe, just hard enough to elicit a twinge of pain, and then the tip of his tongue teased at the tiny hurt. Harry gasped as the sensation arrowed straight through his body to his groin. He was abruptly aware of his own erection, hard and hurting in his too-tight pants. He desperately wished that he'd taken off his underwear when he'd removed his other clothing. Keeping it on had seemed the best thing to do at the time; he'd felt that being completely naked while Snape remained fully clothed would have put him at too great a disadvantage. But now...

He squirmed again, and started tugging ineffectually at the waistband of his pants with both hands.

"What the Devil-?" said Snape, obviously not pleased with Harry's sudden change of priorities. He muttered a few words that Harry couldn't quite catch and then-

"Hey, what have you done with my pants?" Harry asked as he found that his hands were suddenly clutching at nothing and he felt a slight breeze where there certainly hadn't been one before.

"Transfigured them into air," Snape said loftily. "What? You really thought potions were the only magic I knew?"

"No, but- What am I-"

Hot, wet lips. A clever, clever tongue. And a hand that insinuated itself between his thighs and rubbed gently up and down along the sensitive skin it found there.

Harry moaned and let his legs fall open a bit. The lips left his and trailed across his cheek.

"Now." Said in a whisper almost too soft to make out.

Long fingers clutched at his bare skin, pushing his legs around, pulling him back into Snape's lap. An arm came around him from behind, pulling him close so that his back lay against Snape's chest.

Harry was being positioned. There was no other word for it. He found that he didn't mind at all. He could feel Snape's prick pushing up from beneath, the length of it nestled in the cleft of his arse. The soft wool of Snape's trousers prickled against the backs of Harry's thighs. For some reason that made Harry shiver.

Harry wriggled experimentally and was immediately rewarded with a quick thrust up from below. His arse clenched and he pushed back hard against the body behind him, vaguely aware of the feel of buttons and soft linen against his bare back. Snape's arms tightened around him. Another thrust. Harry could feel the smooth, blunt head of Snape's prick pushing hard against him, not quite demanding entrance. Harry swallowed, and concentrated on reminding himself how to breathe.

Snape's hand dropped down and wrapped itself around Harry's erection.

Breathing was really a bit over-rated sometimes.

Snape pushed up against Harry again, the whole hard length of him pressing urgently against Harry's arse. The stroking of Snape's hand matched the rocking of his hips and his hot breath was tickling Harry's ear. Then his teeth found the side of Harry's neck.

Harry's head went back and his hips bucked helplessly. He twisted his upper body around, pulled Snape's face close and caught his mouth in a long kiss that had more than a hint of desperation about it.

Snape wasn't deaf to the request implicit in that action. "Enough?" he murmured against Harry's lips.

"Do you... know any more useful spells?" Harry asked. He didn't want to delay any longer than absolutely necessary.

"Up," said Snape, nodding towards the bed. Harry wriggled, prepared to get out of the chair - and Snape pulled Harry back against him, even harder than before. They both gasped.

"Let go of me," Harry suggested.

Snape scowled, but only half-heartedly, Harry thought. He unwrapped his arms and Harry slid off Snape's lap and onto the floor. He caught hold of the arm of the chair, surprised at how light-headed he felt. He stood there for a moment, waiting for the world to right itself as Snape got up.

Harry made his way over to the bed in the corner of the room and flung himself down on his back across the covers. His hand went down to his lonely erection and gripped it comfortingly, trying not to resent the wait.

He only had a minute or so to wait until Snape joined him. The other man had rid himself of most of his clothes in record time. He was still in his shirtsleeves, undoing the buttons with one hand. His other hand held his wand.

Snape looked down at Harry, eyes dark and mysterious in a face hidden from the firelight, and Harry for a split second Harry caught himself wondering what Snape was thinking. What Snape really thought about all this.

Snape sat down on the bed close beside Harry, though he made no move to touch him. Instead, he reached for his wand.

Harry felt the spell work on him rather than heard Snape say the words. Then, with a growl, Snape had discarded the wand and was on him, hands pulling Harry's legs up and around him. Pushing in. Nothing mysterious about him now. Big and hard and just what he needed. Harry wrapped his legs around Snape's waist, drawing him deeper. Hard and fast. Just what he needed. No finesse left. No control. Just what he needed. Faster and harder. Gasps and groans. Moans of encouragement, all caught up in the relentless rhythm.

Just what they needed.

It was too much. Someone was howling, the sound caught up in the movement. Sound and action and sensation indistinguishable from each other.

And then the lightning flashed before Harry's closed eyes, shattering it all. Shattering the darkness inside him. Shattering him. Shattering what he had become.

A welcome release.


End file.
